The Advice of Brooklyn
by SomedayonBroadway
Summary: Jack isn’t sick. He’s fine. He’s always just fine. Until he isn’t. And he needs to stop taking advice from the king of Brooklyn.


**Guy! Guys! Guys! I did it! I wrote something _fluffy!..._ ish. This has never happened in the history of the world! Yes, it still has a bit of an angst-y element in it, but hey, it's me... what else do you want from me? **

**I started writing this a while ago and I some what forget about it. But hey, here it is. This was a request that I didn't carry out very well. I'll just tell you all again; Romance isn't really my thing. But I tried.**

 **Enjoy!**

It was a cold Manhattan morning. Boys lay in bed for far longer than they should have. Most of them were snuggled together for warmth. Jack knew it wouldn't be long before he'd hear the inevitable sneezes and the coughs. He knew there wasn't much use in hoping they could get through the winter without anyone catching something. What he hadn't expected, was for it to happen to him.

He was the leader. And... _"Leadas don't get sick. Leadas look out fer their boys who get sick. Ain't no one can take care a' us if we's get sick."_ Spot was all knowing when it came to these things. No one questioned his statements. If Spot Conlon said leaders can't get sick, leaders can't get sick. And Jack was determined to get up like it was nothing.

Sadly, life wasn't always so simple.

Coughs wracked his body as the cold sun shone through the Lodging House window. He made sure to turn away from the boy who lay next to him, curled up in a tight ball with their head on his chest. Jack could feel the tightness and aches of his throat. He could feel the way his head pounded and made every little sound echo throughout his head. It all hurt. His muscles ached and his nose was stuffed and he couldn't move his arms.

"Jack?" It was Crutchie. The boy Jack called his kid brother, along with so many others.

"Yeah, kid?" Jack's voice was terrible. It was rough and quiet as he tried to force words from his throat. And damn, did it _hurt_.

"You're sick." It wasn't any type of question. Crutchie didn't even need to know Jack to pick that up. He could hear the coughing and sneezing and he could feel the shakiness and the shifts of discomfort. It did help that he knew him though. He could read Jack like a book. His brother wasn't necessarily easy to read for just anyone. But Crutchie _knew_ him.

Jack didn't respond. He wasn't sick. He _couldn't be_ sick. Leaders don't get sick. Instead, he sniffled and slowly sat up, letting Crutchie fall onto the bed behind him. The dizziness was something he could deal with. That is, until he stood up. Clutching onto the top bunk, he closed his eyes for a moment, trying to keep his balance when the boy from the bed above his sat up.

"Whoa there Kelly, take a breather." Racetrack Higgins. Jack's second. A boy from Brooklyn who'd left seeking more than a well raised army. Seeking friends that were better than the ones he had. Next to him was another boy, still fast asleep and the reason that such a loud mouthed Italian was speaking so quietly.

"I's fine, Racer," Jack replied in a raspy, broken sigh. "Now get up. Wake Romeo, too. Them papes don't sell themselves."

Race rolled his eyes at his friend. A boy that had slowly become his big brother. Always yelling at him to take care of himself when old Jackie never even knew the meaning of the words. So Race sighed and shook his head before complying and waking up the boy who had one been asleep, cuddled up next to him.

"Ya know, Jack, we could cover you fer a day. It ain't no trouble. You could sleep fer a little longa'." Jack crouched down so he could see his crippled friend clearly and he smiled at him.

"Crutch, it's just a little cough," he insisted, lightly shoving the boy's shoulder as he sat on the side of the bunk, legs swung over the edge. "I'll be fine."

Crutchie eyed his best friend, skeptically. The older boy never admitted defeat until the very bitter end when it was all that was in sight. Arguing would get them both no where. So the blond boy finally sighed and stood up, grabbing his crutch off the ground as he did so.

Jack watched his boys get ready to face the day, ignoring the slight blur of his vision. He could do it. He could get through. _"Don' eva' let 'em see the hard days, Jackie-boy. You's gotta be the strong one."_ Jack prided himself in being different than the overly feared Spot Conlon. But as he looked around at all the boys he would give his life for, he couldn't help but take every spec of advice the Brooklyn king had ever given him.

"You look awful."

Jack couldn't stop himself from rolling his eyes and scoffing. "Geez, Davey. Wayda make a guy feel good."

David Jacobs. A stand up guy. One of his best friends since a few months ago. A time when everything in the newsies' lives had been falling to pieces.

"You've got a cold, Jackie," Davey wasted no time getting straight to the point. "Possibly worse. Let Racetrack take charge today and go lie down." It was no use. Jack was known for being too stubborn for his own good.

"I's fine!" Jack was tired of hearing all the pleas for him to go back to bed. They were already at The World. He already had his papers. He wasn't about to turn back.

He wasn't fine. To his boys, it was painfully obvious. He was breaking into coughing fits as they all stood in line and they were watching him with eyes wide and full of worry. He sneezed and sniffled every few moments and Crutchie sat by him on the wagon along with Race as he took a few minutes in the morning to read over the paper.

Crutchie's legs were up on the wagon as he leaned into Race, letting the older boy mumble the headlines into his ear almost incoherently with the cigar that was hanging from his lips and Jack did what he did most days. He tied Crutchie's shoes for him and made sure to secure his papers in his bag, inspecting the thing, making sure it wouldn't break open and let his papes fall. The Manhattan leader wiped his nose on his sleeve and cleared his throat, which was much louder and more difficult than he'd anticipated.

Race's mumbles stopped and Crutchie's eyes became pleading. "Jack, why can't ya just go back ta bed fer one day? It ain't the end of the world!"

"I's need ta make a livin', kid. I can't do that by layin' in bed all day." Jack could see that his friends were not satisfied with his response. He blinked the sleepiness out of his eyes and shook his head. "'Sides, I's already got my papes. I ain't gonna sell 'em back when I just got 'em."

Crutchie and Race exchanged a glance but found they had no arguments that Jack would listen to. So Race shook his head and went back to mumbling out the crummy headlines, while Crutchie chuckled ever so slightly at the snarky comments he would make at the poor execution of words.

Jack leaned he back against the wagon and closed his eyes for a moment, letting his headache ease off for a few seconds. It still hurt. But he had to keep going. _"Leadas push through and neva' give up the act. It's a poka' face, Kelly."_

Jack's head spun with the reminder of those conversations. But he shook it off and saw that all his boys had their papers. So he hopped off the wagon, wincing and catching Race's worried glance when he stood tall. But Jack ignored it. He helped Crutchie down and lead his boys off into the day.

The Manhattan leader eyed Race from where he stood. That former Brooklyn boy gave himself away. He sold in one place. Sheepshead. And when he wasn't selling in Sheepshead, he either lost a bet, gambled too well, or was keeping an eye on someone. Jack couldn't recall the last time that that someone had been him.

The crippled boy was close by too. That didn't shock Jack at all. Crutchie and him always stayed near each other. Jack was known for getting himself in trouble and the older boy refused to let Crutchie go out alone with the Delanceys still on the loose. Those cruel boys didn't know when to stop. So they didn't. Sometimes, they left kids barely breathing. But what did shock Jack was the way that Crutchie would go up to him and talk to him, regularly. Almost every hour. And Jack couldn't help but roll his eyes when the boy did it for the fifth time.

"Crutch, I am fine!" He stomped his foot to emphasize his point. In reality, it only made him look like a small child throwing a fit because they didn't want to stay inside on such a great day because of a damn cold.

Crutchie smirked at him and Jack caught sight of Race giving him a look of disapproval from across the street. "Alright, Jackie... but I _really_ think you should take a break-"

Jack sniffled and shook his head, ignoring the dizziness that overtook him and said in his congested, stuffy voice, "Crutchie Morris, I am gonna do my damn job, I am gonna finish my damn job, then I's gonna go back ta the lodge and sleep a little." He said it with a reassuring smile on his face, but the words that came out were so sickly and weaker than they should have been. Jack just refused to show it.

With one last worried look, Crutchie walked away, leaving Jack with a weary "... okay..." and that was it. For the rest of the day, he was somewhat left alone. All he could do was stick a tongue out at Race whenever the boy shot him a look after a coughing fit and give Crutchie a smile when he would sneeze. He thought he could make it. He really did.

He didn't know his two best friends were his safety blanket until they had carefully walked up to him and told him they'd sold their papers and were headed back. Both of them were reluctant, but as the three zoo wranglers of their home, they knew they had to get back and stop the chaos that was their brothers.

Jack had four papes left. _Four papes_. He could have made it. He could've made it if all the assholes in the world would give a sick boy a penny for a damn paper. But no one did. The cold air chased them away and Jack found himself growing weaker and weaker by the minute.

Finally, the boy found himself needing to sit down. So he did. In front of some store Jack couldn't recall at the moment. It was rare that the boy didn't know exactly where he was at all times, but his mind was foggy and nothing seemed to make sense in that moment. That is, until he heard a _very_ familiar voice.

"Jack Kelly, what the hell were you thinking?!" The boy's forest green eyes shot open. When and how he'd gotten inside was a mystery to him and he felt panic surge in him at the sight of the castle he'd seemingly been brought to.

"What the hell...?" Jack's eyelids were heavy. He tried to sit up only to be pushed back down by gentle, loving hands. He found himself to be wrapped up in a blanket as he sat on a couch of some kind. There were candles lit and a fire going to keep the place warm. Despite this, Jack sneezed and forced his eyes to open fully, to take a real look around.

When he saw Katherine he froze. The girl was looking at him with such a look of disappointment and worry. Her hand was on his chest. He grabbed it in an attempt to ease her anxious look and then he caught a glance behind her.

"What the hell, Race?!" It was meant to be a yell, but the boy was so sick that his voice was too hoarse and shaky to sound threatening. And the kid chewing on the cigar in front of him raised up his hands in mock surrender.

"Don't get mad at me, Kelly! Our crip is the one that convinced me ta go back fer you's, ya idiot!" Race was sitting on a nightstand across the room. Jack could see the way he fidgeted when he glared at him. And Jack thought anyone else would be completely oblivious if they couldn't see the worry in the boy's bright blue eyes. "We were at the lodge fer an hour and ya still weren't home."

Jack felt a pang in his chest. Then he remembered something. Something else that was said to him. _"Don't let 'em worry 'bout ya. You're supposed ta be the rock."_ His eyes were stuck on Racetrack. The boy would not look at him. And Jack hated himself in that moment when he realized that he'd failed. Race wasn't supposed to be worried about him. Crutchie neither. He was the one who was supposed to worry and take care of them.

"He found you on the side of the rode, Jack. So he brought you here." Katherine's sweet voice brought Jack out of his slight daze. And then his vision became slightly blurred and his skin felt hot. He felt Katherine's hand meet his forehead and he sighed.

"Ace, I'm-"

"I swear ta God, Kelly, if you say you's fine one more time, I will soak ya myself." Jack couldn't stop the immediate guilt that took over him. When Race raised his voice in that particular way, Jack knew the kid well enough to know that he was hiding his fears in an intimidating statement. Jack must've looked a lot worse than he thought.

Jack felt the couch dip next to him and he glanced over to his right to see that his girl had taken a seat right next to him. "Race, why don't you go back to the boys. You can come back in the morning to see him." For a moment, Race didn't move. He glared at his friend until he realized that the woman was right. And so he stood and scoffed, his cocky smirk making its way back onto his face.

The Italian boy strolled over to behind the couch without a word said, then he leaned down next to Jack's ear. "You don't think I know the great Spot Conlon's advice when I see it?" he asked, and Jack didn't move. He couldn't. He found himself become a bit embarrassed at the words before Race laughed. "Or did ya forget that I lived with him fer three years?" The older of the two didn't respond. He just winced at his own stupidity. Why he ever thought it would be a good idea to listen to Spot was a mystery to him. So he let Race press a quick kiss to the side of his head, before the boy stood up tall. "Get betta', Kelly. I'll hold down the fort tonight."

That was when Race was gone and Jack was left with the very disappointed girl sitting next to him. "Kath, just wait-"

"What the hell were you thinking?" And so the lecture began. "You have a ridiculously high fever. You can't walk alone, you can't hardly stand and your voice sounds like sandpaper!" Katherine smacked him in the chest, causing her boy to groan in response. "You could've been hurt! Or worse! Jack Kelly, do you have any idea how scared that boy was when he brought you here?"

"Ace-" Jack knew he wouldn't be able to get a word in. After all, he'd been with Katherine for a few months, now.

"It didn't help that my father answered the door, either! And look at you! You're a mess, Jack!" The girl was gesturing wildly. The worry that ate at her voice made Jack sink further into the couch. But at that last line, he snorted.

"Thank ya, sweetheart." She rolled her eyes and smacked the back of his head.

"Shut it, Mr. Kelly. You're in trouble. Big trouble!" Jack couldn't argue with that tone in her voice. "Race was almost in tears! And my father almost sent him away!" That statement made Jack feel so much worse. "How could you possibly think that selling was a good option today?"

Jack picked at his own fingernails. He bit his lip as he tried to come up with some kind of response. All he could get out was, "I didn't want them ta see me the way I is right now..."

Katherine sighed. Her boy was many things. _Stupid_ being one of them. But she did understand. She just didn't agree. "They would've taken care of you, Jack. You're lucky to have boys that care about you so much."

Jack smiled at the thought of his brothers. She was right. They would've taken care of him. Maybe that was really why Spot's words had been echoing in his head all day. Jack didn't want his boys to have to take care of him. Not when all he wanted to do was take care of them. "I am real lucky ta have them, ain't I?" Katherine laughed and took his hand. Jack smiled at her, through the sweat and the shakes and the coughs he could feel in his chest. "I'm lucky ta have you too. Tellin' me how dumb I am fer tryin' ta push 'em 'way."

Katherine smiled. She let her boyfriend lean onto her and close his eyes before she pressed a loving kiss to his head. "You're damn lucky to have all of us, Jack. Promise to stop hiding from us," she demanded quietly as he started to drift off.

Jack smiled and snuggled closer to her. He let his head rest on her shoulder as she held his hand and stroked his hair. "Promise..." he mumbled out as he began to drift off.

Then he remember yesterday. _Yesterday_. A day when he had still prided himself in being the leader of Manhattan. _Jack Kelly_. A day when he would gladly be different than the feared Spot Conlon. _Sorry Spotty,_ Jack thought as he began to drift off. _You's got an army. But I's got a family._

 **The prompt was for Katherine to find Jack sick and then freak out on him. Because who doesn't love Katherine? But hey, I still needed my brotherly fluff too. So I'm sorry FuriedNight. I tried my hardest.**

 **Thank you, FuriedNight! I'm still picking slowly at your requests! I hope you liked this one, even though it should've been more of Katherine and Jack. But you know me. Race is like a lifeline. He has to be in there too.**

 **I hope you all liked this short little one-shot. I had fun writing it. ;)**

 **As always, make sure to tell me what you liked, what you didn't, what you'd change or what you'd improve by leaving me a review! Love ya, fansies!**


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